It’s been hell getting things back on track since my journey to West Texas. The hell being that I’d much rather be out there than chained to my desk.
I use my personal laptop for work. I have my browser set to CNN.com when Safari opens. I have since had to change it because I cannot stomach the horrifying and constant headlines about people neglecting and abusing children. Yesterday there was the 4 or 5 year old girl that authorities were hoping to identify because she was being sexually abused by an adult in a video that was found outside of Vegas. Then there was the report of the 4-month-old that was found in a daycare bathroom with its pacifier taped to its mouth. Today there’s the one about the parents that strapped their 14-month-old in his stroller so they could go party. He was found with severe diaper rash, his temp was 12 degrees below normal and was required to have 21 minutes of CPR to revive him because he stopped breathing. The mother of this child admitted to only changing his diaper once a day! Once a day, people! What the fuck? How? How can they do this? Makes me sick. I can’t read this crap at work anymore. I’ll never get anything done.
W had a true blue meltdown this morning right before leaving for school. I went in his room to put on his, yes, you guessed it, his Crocs and he flipped out. His body went stiff and he little arms were spinning like windmills. I quickly gave him the once over to rule out anything poking or scratching him. I was on the verge of being late for work so I carried him out to the truck kicking and screaming. I calmly put him in the carseat and that was like wrestling an armful of piglets. He wailed all the way to school despite my efforts to console him with an improvised version of The Wheels On The Bus. When we pulled in, I finally exhaled and gently extracted him from the truck. I retrieved the shoes he launched to the front seat and put them on him. He had settled down by this time but I was completely rattled. We hugged for a few seconds, collected ourselves and headed to the playground. I couldn’t unload him fast enough. I know this is only the beginning of the alleged Terrible Twos and, so far, it really stinks. Must do research.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I Saw It Before It Was There
Last Wednesday, I was drinking sake in Marfa. That Thursday, I cured a slight hangover by building a Mongolian yurt. On Friday, my bottom lip looked like a botched botox treatment courtesy of the West Texas altitude and sun. Saturday, I was rockin' and rollin' with the guests of El Cosmico and Sunday we put the whole thing to bed. Monday, my travel companion and I filled up with on a heavy duty country breakfast in Ft. Davis and promptly sank to the bottom of Balmorrhea Springs upon impact.
This is the last 5 days in brief. We were hired to work this amazing event. What a time. Here it is in pictures.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7852978@N08/sets/72157602138131992/?page=2
More to come…
This is the last 5 days in brief. We were hired to work this amazing event. What a time. Here it is in pictures.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7852978@N08/sets/72157602138131992/?page=2
More to come…
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Crocodile Rock
W asked me if I would "nurse, nurse" Jelly Cat last night. For those of you who don't know, Jelly Cat is his favorite stuffed animal. Lately W has been somewhat obsessed with the idea of nursing and I can't figure out why. Is he secretly pining for a sibling? Hubs, you want to weigh in on this (insert sound of screeching car tires, here)?
W is seriously infatuated with his Crocs. He won’t wear any other shoes. I’ve purchased a couple of super cute pairs for him from Old Navy and Piperlime.com for the fall and I bet they will collect dust in the closet. I got his first pair of Crocs in Nashville back in June. I never, ever intended on getting him a pair of those ugly, rubber colander looking things but he was putting them on at the department store by himself. That's a pretty big deal. My girlfriend was nodding her approval with that “see I told you so” look on her face as she dug through the latest Croc style for her son. They were awesome shoes to travel with this summer. Easy on, easy off. Easy wash up, easy dry. They were great for walking on hot sandy beaches and parking lots that seemed to go on forever. One evening after dinner in Santa Monica, we were walking back to our hotel, W leading the charge. A lovely, leggy British speaking woman was walking in front of us with her tall significant other and two teens. W barreled past them and I jogged to keep up. The woman commented, “Look at his little Crocs. I didn’t know they made them that small.” I called out to “Shorty” to slow down and she repeated his nickname out loud. As I walked past her little group, I turned to see it was Minnie Driver (totally pretty in real life). Dahlia Malloy was talking about my kid!
Not surprisingly, several kiddos at W’s school wear Crocs. Interestingly enough, most are identical (same shade of blue) so it often happens that classmates go home with each other’s shoes. I imagine a 3 or 4-year-old cramming their dirty little sole in them like Cinderella’s stepsister as they hurry to leave with a parent knowing in their toddler mind that something isn’t quite right down there. I’ve put W’s name on his shoes but it rubs off on the playground gravel pile and sand pit.
Last week W was the last one at school (I hate when that happens…kinda makes me feel like a bad mom). When we went to put on his shoes, one was missing and all of the extra blue crocs were enormous on his feet. Frustrated, I stuck him in the car shoeless and took him to get another pair, a black pair. These are without a doubt his favorites and now shuns the blue ones. He proclaims “Crocodile shoes, black like mama’s truck.” He wears them with only his diaper on. He would wear them in the bathtub if I let him.
What I want him to wear…
What W won't take off his feet...
So damn ugly.
W is seriously infatuated with his Crocs. He won’t wear any other shoes. I’ve purchased a couple of super cute pairs for him from Old Navy and Piperlime.com for the fall and I bet they will collect dust in the closet. I got his first pair of Crocs in Nashville back in June. I never, ever intended on getting him a pair of those ugly, rubber colander looking things but he was putting them on at the department store by himself. That's a pretty big deal. My girlfriend was nodding her approval with that “see I told you so” look on her face as she dug through the latest Croc style for her son. They were awesome shoes to travel with this summer. Easy on, easy off. Easy wash up, easy dry. They were great for walking on hot sandy beaches and parking lots that seemed to go on forever. One evening after dinner in Santa Monica, we were walking back to our hotel, W leading the charge. A lovely, leggy British speaking woman was walking in front of us with her tall significant other and two teens. W barreled past them and I jogged to keep up. The woman commented, “Look at his little Crocs. I didn’t know they made them that small.” I called out to “Shorty” to slow down and she repeated his nickname out loud. As I walked past her little group, I turned to see it was Minnie Driver (totally pretty in real life). Dahlia Malloy was talking about my kid!
Not surprisingly, several kiddos at W’s school wear Crocs. Interestingly enough, most are identical (same shade of blue) so it often happens that classmates go home with each other’s shoes. I imagine a 3 or 4-year-old cramming their dirty little sole in them like Cinderella’s stepsister as they hurry to leave with a parent knowing in their toddler mind that something isn’t quite right down there. I’ve put W’s name on his shoes but it rubs off on the playground gravel pile and sand pit.
Last week W was the last one at school (I hate when that happens…kinda makes me feel like a bad mom). When we went to put on his shoes, one was missing and all of the extra blue crocs were enormous on his feet. Frustrated, I stuck him in the car shoeless and took him to get another pair, a black pair. These are without a doubt his favorites and now shuns the blue ones. He proclaims “Crocodile shoes, black like mama’s truck.” He wears them with only his diaper on. He would wear them in the bathtub if I let him.
What I want him to wear…
What W won't take off his feet...
So damn ugly.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Birthday Boy
Wow kiddo,
You’re two-years-old now. Like everyone says it has whizzed by like an empty inner tube on a waterslide at Schlitterbaun. It seems like just yesterday I was propping your wobbly large noggin in my hands and hoping I wouldn’t somehow break you in half. What a good baby you were but, oh, how mommy-centric. Come to think of it, you are still very mommy-centric. I know it won’t always be this way so I embrace your constant calling out for me…”Mama, air are ewe? Mama, mama, mama…” You turned two yesterday and to commemorate it, you actually asked me if you could “nurse, nurse” which was a total surprise. You haven’t nursed in six months. The request must’ve been in honor of your fleeting infanthood and I completely respect that. Mommy sometimes wishes she had a bottle to nurse but that would be one full of white wine with hints of peach and cardamom.
Your daddy became a year older yesterday, too, and as usual, he’s not taking it so well. He even did a bit of muttering last night that we both recognized as something an elderly person would say. That was a blow. But he’s in the gym more, eating well and wearing cologne so he’s putting up a pretty good fight. Let’s keep rooting for him, okay?
We gave you a drum kit for your birthday and you love it. This is not a surprise as you are really in to rhythm and beats. And you love to sing. Loud. In the car. Just like mama. This morning was your 2-year doctor’s appointment and as we headed out of the house you asked, “Mama, takie dum dicks?” and I said, “Sure, you can take your drum sticks.” Then you said, “Mama, takie dum?” and I looked over to see you dragging the whole kit to the front door. Needless to say, we only took the dum dicks.
This is the part where I tell you how much I love you and can’t imagine my life without you. You have brought so much silliness, laughter, and fun into our little world. You have helped me to be a more patient and aware parent, friend, co-worker, and wife. You have encouraged your father and me to grow up in the best ways therefore enhancing the beautiful bond we nurture on a daily basis. I am blessed, plain and simple.
Love you up to the sky,
Mama
You’re two-years-old now. Like everyone says it has whizzed by like an empty inner tube on a waterslide at Schlitterbaun. It seems like just yesterday I was propping your wobbly large noggin in my hands and hoping I wouldn’t somehow break you in half. What a good baby you were but, oh, how mommy-centric. Come to think of it, you are still very mommy-centric. I know it won’t always be this way so I embrace your constant calling out for me…”Mama, air are ewe? Mama, mama, mama…” You turned two yesterday and to commemorate it, you actually asked me if you could “nurse, nurse” which was a total surprise. You haven’t nursed in six months. The request must’ve been in honor of your fleeting infanthood and I completely respect that. Mommy sometimes wishes she had a bottle to nurse but that would be one full of white wine with hints of peach and cardamom.
Your daddy became a year older yesterday, too, and as usual, he’s not taking it so well. He even did a bit of muttering last night that we both recognized as something an elderly person would say. That was a blow. But he’s in the gym more, eating well and wearing cologne so he’s putting up a pretty good fight. Let’s keep rooting for him, okay?
We gave you a drum kit for your birthday and you love it. This is not a surprise as you are really in to rhythm and beats. And you love to sing. Loud. In the car. Just like mama. This morning was your 2-year doctor’s appointment and as we headed out of the house you asked, “Mama, takie dum dicks?” and I said, “Sure, you can take your drum sticks.” Then you said, “Mama, takie dum?” and I looked over to see you dragging the whole kit to the front door. Needless to say, we only took the dum dicks.
This is the part where I tell you how much I love you and can’t imagine my life without you. You have brought so much silliness, laughter, and fun into our little world. You have helped me to be a more patient and aware parent, friend, co-worker, and wife. You have encouraged your father and me to grow up in the best ways therefore enhancing the beautiful bond we nurture on a daily basis. I am blessed, plain and simple.
Love you up to the sky,
Mama
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Grilling For Dummies
We finally got to use the grill last night. Thank goodness because W was just about convinced that it was his Beyond The Thunderdome playhouse. We fired it up in the twilight of the evening and gawked at its awesomeness. We grilled ears of corn and shrimp for this recipe we love mucho. We felt victorious and sated at the end of the night. Unfortunately we ended up using an entire tank of fuel on a pound of shrimp and 4 ears of corn. How can this be, you ask? It can be because no one remembered to turn off the damn gas and it leeched out into the world all night long. How many carbon credits are we going to have to buy to correct this little oversight? Not only that but it was a powder keg waiting to happen as the fumes congregated underneath the grill cover. Don’t you wish you were our neighbors? AND our yard guy came today which means there was the possibility he could’ve ignited the entire ‘hood with his mower. We are so grounded from the grill. The Hubs has a label maker and will be making all sorts of directional messages to adhere to the shiny sides of the beast so we don’t make any other stupid mistakes. We remind me of Homer and Marge Simpson.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Little People Rule
Please tell me that at nearly two years of age it’s normal for a little boy to be as empathetic as a Red Cross volunteer. Despite W’s usual moments of defiance and resistance to anything that hints of doing something he doesn’t want to do, the kid has got a tender side that borders on creepy. For example, I was in the 4th hour of putting our grill-the-size-of-a-shiny-new-semi together (living hell) this past Saturday and W was vying for my attention, which was fair enough. I had been piecing it together for a while and he didn’t have the Hubs to defer to as he had hightailed it to a private gig out of town. I was leaning in to the silver beast for the seventh or twelfth time with the cordless drill as I hopelessly tried to get a shelf to secure to the base when W rammed me with his large, plastic dump truck. It startled me and I jumped, maybe even squeaked “Ah!” and W looked at me like I had been hit by an actual construction vehicle. Since I was sitting on the floor I was at his eye level. He came over, said “C’mere,” and hugged me. Not the full arms around the shoulders sort of hug but one where he was to my left and swung his right arm over my shoulder like a chummy dad. He said, “C’mere, “ a few more times, kept looking at me like he expected me to cry and then said, “Hug.” I obliged him but felt awkward. His parental-esque coddling was just a little too grown up. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given me a tap on the chin with his little fist and said, “Hang in there, kiddo.”
So we have a new grill. Unfortunately, it has been sitting in our living room since Saturday afternoon. It rained all weekend and our porch isn’t covered. Something we should’ve thought about doing during the remodel a couple of years ago. So we sat around the house and sat and sat except for Monday when I actually talked the Hubs in to going to Nordstrom’s because we were both in dire need of some new duds. This was going to be a maiden voyage for us all. Yes, I have never been to Nordstrom’s. And yes, it was pretty awesome, especially the fish aquarium in the shoe department and the pianist that played cheesy hits at warp speed. The Hubs found some shirts that looked mighty foxy on him and he even bought some cologne. Does he have a lova’? W was completely content to push his balloon around in the umbrella stroller the entire time. He followed like an obedient pup. We eventually found our way to the shoe department (of course) and I scored a sleek little pump for work. I spied a naughty looking heel that I pointed out to the Hubs. He picked one up, agreed they were completely sexy, turned them over, saw the price tag and reacted like he had just seen his mother naked. “Those cost more than the grill!” he bellowed. Yes, sweetheart, yes they do.
So we have a new grill. Unfortunately, it has been sitting in our living room since Saturday afternoon. It rained all weekend and our porch isn’t covered. Something we should’ve thought about doing during the remodel a couple of years ago. So we sat around the house and sat and sat except for Monday when I actually talked the Hubs in to going to Nordstrom’s because we were both in dire need of some new duds. This was going to be a maiden voyage for us all. Yes, I have never been to Nordstrom’s. And yes, it was pretty awesome, especially the fish aquarium in the shoe department and the pianist that played cheesy hits at warp speed. The Hubs found some shirts that looked mighty foxy on him and he even bought some cologne. Does he have a lova’? W was completely content to push his balloon around in the umbrella stroller the entire time. He followed like an obedient pup. We eventually found our way to the shoe department (of course) and I scored a sleek little pump for work. I spied a naughty looking heel that I pointed out to the Hubs. He picked one up, agreed they were completely sexy, turned them over, saw the price tag and reacted like he had just seen his mother naked. “Those cost more than the grill!” he bellowed. Yes, sweetheart, yes they do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
